


Forever Young - A Funeral, 2004

by mock_hells_hero



Series: Celebrations [2]
Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Angst, Aunt-Niece Relationship, Aunts & Uncles, Backstory, Character Death, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Tragedy, Wakes & Funerals, darcy siblings, pre-lbd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mock_hells_hero/pseuds/mock_hells_hero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spring 2004. William Darcy's life is turned upside down. The events that shaped the man Lizzie met at the Gibson Wedding. Sequel to Engraved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winds of Change

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to go the just post the damn thing route. This has been giving me issues for months. I hope it turned out okay. I'm gonna do updates I think every other day on this one.

He sat in the big airy kitchen, a piece of toast in one hand, bent over his AP Physics textbook. The click of high heels announced his mother’s arrival. “William, remember, your father and I have meetings in L.A. this afternoon, so you’ll have to pick Gigi up after her swimming practice. She’ll be done at six.” His mother gave him a kiss, and ran her fingers through his hair. He nodded without looking up from his textbook and smoothed his hair back down.

“You’ve only reminded me a hundred times.” 

“There’s leftover chicken in the fridge for dinner,” she picked up her briefcase and put on her coat. “I was thinking we could go to Italy for your and Gigi’s spring break, and I confirmed with the caterer for the graduation party. Good luck on your test today. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you. Take care of your sister.” She clicked away.

“Love you too, Mom.” He called after her, listening as she and Gigi left the house and drove off down the long gravel driveway. When the house had faded into silence again, he finished his toast, packed his bag, and set off for school. 

He strolled up to the the stone building distractedly, still running through the formulas for his physics test in his head. “Hey, William! Anybody there?” George Wickham burst onto his consciousness, snapping his fingers in front of William’s eyes.

“Hey, George.”

“What’s up, man? I missed you at my lacrosse game last night. I had a hat-trick. It was totally awesome. You should have seen it.” George mimed taking a shot.

William rolled his eyes. “Sorry, George, I have a physics test today. I had to study.”

“Oh.” George pouted. “I see how it is. Physics is more important than your friends.”

“It’s not like that George. And you know that’s not fair.” George’s attention was already elsewhere though. He winked and then waved at a pretty girl seated on a bench. She blushed and giggled and waved back. “George!” Darcy called his friend back to their conversation. “She’s in ninth grade!”

“You’re too uptight. Last time I checked, flirting was legal.” George shrugged the reprimand off.

“Pardon me for being uncomfortable with you flirting with girls who are barely older than my sister.” William pulled his notebooks from his locker. “I’ve got to go to class.” George grimaced. “You should try it sometime George. It might help your grades.” He slammed the locker shut and walked off, leaving George standing in the hallway behind him.

Later, sitting in class, he would regret that remark. But lately George’s immaturity had been trying his patience. George was being recruited for swimming in college, and he was content to coast on his athletic ability and natural charm. _Because God forbid he ever do a day of hard work in his life._ William thought sarcastically.

He heard his mother’s voice, _William, that’s uncharitable_. 

 _I don’t care_ , he responded. _I can’t afford to be immature. Dad won’t let me. I have to be valedictorian. I have to go to Harvard. I have to be everything he was and be it even better, and he’s still not satisfied.  All George has to do is smile and crack a few jokes and he has Dad eating out of his palm. It’s not fair._  

His father’s voice answered, _Life isn’t fair, William. Business isn’t fair. Anything you want in life or business you need to be prepared to earn twice over. Some people whine about this fact, and some people deal with it. My son is going to be one of the latter._

His reverie was interrupted by the crackling of the PA system. **_William Darcy please come to the Dean of Students office. William Darcy to the Dean of Students office._** Sixty eyes turned to stare at him. He could feel the gazes burning into his face. Tony, sitting two rows behind him hooted, “Oooh, looks like golden boy’s in trouble!” He blushed and rolled his eyes as the rest of the class snickered. He felt a flash of anger, and tried to remember what his mother had told him about managing his temper. Grabbing his backpack, he heard Mr. Davies calling for order as the door clicked shut behind him. He walked the halls swiftly, wondering what the main office could want from him. His mouth twitched as he wondered if this was George’s idea of a prank.

Mrs. Hooper gave him a pitying look when he came up to her desk. “Go on, then, William, Mr. Thompson is waiting for you.” He began to worry that he might actually be in trouble, but couldn’t think why.

“Mr. Thompson-” He began, but then he saw the man’s expression. The usual cheery grin was absent, and he had a drawn, very serious look on his face. He was speaking into the phone.

“So you’ll meet him at there then? Are you sure that’s a good idea? Oh. Well. If you’re decided.” He hung up, and looked up at William. “You’re going to want to sit down, William.”

William smoothed his jacket and tie nervously and sat down on the hard leather chair. “What’s this about?” He asked, getting more frightened with every second that Mr. Thompson hemmed and hawed.

“William, I’ve had a phone call from your Aunt Catherine. I’m afraid there’s bad news. Your parents, there was an accident on their way back from Los Angeles. They’ve been transported to St. Francis hospital. Your Aunt wants you to pick your sister up at the Middle School Campus and meet her there, but if you’re not able to drive-”

“I can drive,” he insisted. He needed to get out of this room. Out of the building. His muscles itched. He stood up and walked to the door, checking to make sure he had his car keys and his phone. Everything else could wait. “Will Gigi be waiting for me?”

“Yes. I’ve phoned the Head of the Middle School and explained the situation. Gigi will be on the front steps. I’ll explain to your teachers and coaches what has happened. The thoughts and prayers of all of us are with you and your family.” 

“Thank you, sir. I’m sure everything will be fine.” William stood up and went to the door. 

“William,” Dean Thompson shook his head and gave him that same pitying look that Mrs. Hooper had given him when he’d arrived. “It didn’t sound good. ” William banished that possibility from his mind as soon as Dean Thompson spoke the words. He was going to pick up Gigi from school, meet Aunt Catherine at the hospital and hold his parents hands while they got better. They were going to get better, and one day the four of them would laugh about the time he’d gotten called to the office and he’d thought he was going to be in trouble.

He barely knew how he got from his school to Gigi’s. She was sitting on the front steps when he pulled up, and hopped into the car without any hesitation. She gave him a hug. “Is everything going to be okay?” She asked him earnestly, scrutinizing his face for clues.

He opened his mouth to lie. To say that everything was going to be just like before in no time, that this was an anomaly. But he was only eighteen, and he was scared, and he couldn’t do it. “I don’t know.” Her face crumpled and her eyes filled with tears. He felt the crushing pressure of responsibility descend on his chest. It was suffocating. “We’re going to meet Aunt Catherine at the hospital. She’ll know more. For now, remember what Dad always said to us. Don’t worry about things that haven’t happened yet, or things you can’t change. I’m sure we’ll have a lot of time to worry when we know more.”

“Aunt Catherine?” Gigi squeaked. He gave her hand a squeeze and drove away. Gigi looked back at the brick building until it disappeared behind the trees.


	2. Sunset of Hope

William and Gigi walked hand and hand through the salmon hallways of the hospital. The smell made him feel sick. He could see Gigi’s lip trembling and she gripped his hand with such tenacity that he winced and bit his cheek to distract himself. They found the room that the front desk had directed him to. It was a hideous shade of pink, like everything else in the hospital. There was an ugly peach colored carpet, and a small window letting in a single square of afternoon sunlight. The salmon colored plastic chairs were sparsely occupied by a smattering of drawn faces. He saw his Aunt Catherine standing in one corner fighting with someone about her cellphone. She had her characteristic scowl on.

“William, you’re here. Good.” She looked him up and down and kissed him on the cheek. She turned to Gigi. “Georgiana. Give your Aunt Catherine a kiss.” Gigi stood on her tiptoes and complied. “I heard you’ve taken up tennis,” Aunt Catherine drawled. Gigi nodded mutely. “Hopefully you’ll show more aptitude for that than you did for dance lessons.” Gigi burst into tears. William wrapped a protective arm around her, and gave her a squeeze.

“Have you had any news?” He asked.

He thought he saw a flicker of distress pass over her features, but she quickly plastered her usual condescending smile back on. “Oh, not much. Those people,” she gestured, “won’t tell me much. They don’t know how long its going to be, or anything about the outcome beyond the fact that their situation is ‘not good’.” She tisked. “And now they won’t let me use my cellphone. Unbelievable.”

“What happened? How could this happen?” He asked quietly.

She blinked, “An SUV swerved into them. Their car flipped. The SUV driver was pronounced dead on the scene.” William thought he might have seen her blink back tears, but then again, maybe he had just imagined it. “ I’m going to go outside to make a phone call. Your father’s lawyer has been trying to reach me for an hour. This is a P.R. disaster.” Her stilettos thudded dully on the linoleum floors as she walked away.

_I guess it was too much to hope for,_ he thought, _that the circumstances would have softened her._ “I’m sure Aunt Catherine didn’t mean it,” he led a still crying Gigi over to one of the pink chairs. “She’s just as upset as we are, and she snapped at you.” Gigi wiped her eyes with a kleenex, and William tried to make himself comfortable in the chair next to her. They settled down to wait. He pulled out his reading for history, but he couldn’t concentrate on it. Eventually he gave up on doing anything, and just watched the square of sunlight move away from him across the ugly carpet. 

Gigi had fallen asleep; her head rested softly on his shoulder. Her cheek was sticky with dried tears, but her breathing was calm. The weight was comforting. Aunt Catherine worked feverishly, stopping every half hour or so to get up and bother someone or go outside to make a phone call. Usually this would have embarrassed him, but fear had eclipsed any other emotion. Every so often she would try to start a conversation with him, but neither of their hearts was in it. “I’ve been thinking of getting a dog, you know.” She told him at one point.

“That’s nice,” he grunted.

“I’ve never been much for children,” she drawled, “Far too loud and unreliable for my taste. And children these days,” she sighed, “are just terrors. Your mother always was the one with a gift for them. They loved her. But dogs, dogs are more to my liking. They’re obedient, you see, and they don’t talk back to you.” She continued to speak on the topic long after William had ceased to listen to her.

His stomach rumbled, and William realized he hadn’t eaten since that piece of toast hours ago, but his appetite was nowhere to be found. He told himself over and over again that everything was going to be okay, that any moment now they would come over to tell him that he could go see his parents. He kept expecting to wake up at any moment, and find himself back in bed at home. But the clock ticked on, and each time he repeated the mantra to himself, he believed it a little less. He watched the square of light creep farther and farther across the floor as the sun set, getting dimmer and fainter as it went. Finally, it vanished entirely.

When the man came over to tell them, it was just a confirmation of something he already knew. “Both?” Aunt Catherine asked in a quivering voice that sounded entirely alien to his ears. William almost couldn’t hear the man’s quiet affirmation over Gigi’s wails. He tasted salt from his own tears in his mouth. As if underwater, he heard a devastated Aunt Catherine talking about lawyers and death certificates and undertakers and funerals. His own world had narrowed to the sobbing twelve-year-old girl in his arms.


	3. Stand Upright

After the man who had told them left, the three sat without speaking for a long time. The other people in the room looked at them with horrified expressions. The clock ticked on insensitively from the corner. Tears running down his face, William entertained a violent fantasy of punching every person in the room, breaking their stares, and then when that was done, putting his fist through the clock and putting an end to that insufferable ticking. _Just leave us alone,_ he pleaded, _leave me alone_.

William watched in silence as Aunt Catherine brought out a tissue from her purse and pulled herself back together. She wiped the tears from her face, applied her lipstick and smoothed her blouse, and suddenly she was almost her old self again, if you didn’t look too closely. “William, you can take Georgiana home. I have to inform the board. I assume a copy of the wills will be on file in the office.” Her voice quivered at first, but she quickly found her usual emotionless tone again. 

“I understand that this might seem like an inappropriate time to mention this, but it cannot be helped. William, the way you and Georgiana conduct yourselves over the next two weeks will likely determine the fate of Pemberley Digital for the next twenty years. Your mother and father wanted the company to stay in the Darcy family, and for their sakes and yours I am going to fight to keep it there. You should have enough AP credits to graduate from college in three years, and get an MBA in two more. If you choose programs in the area you can work at Pemberley part time and gain experience that way. Maybe you can even work at Pemberley and go to school part-time. I always say there’s no substitute for getting your hands dirty.” She pursed her lips together and hummed. “Yes. I think that would be best.” 

Her words washed over him, barely registering. “But,” she bore down on him anew, “This all depends on your behavior over the next few days. Everyone will be watching the two of you, some will be looking to help you, but most will be waiting for you to fail, looking for an excuse to turn on you. You and Georgiana must not give them anything. Everything this family does must always be above reproach from the moment you leave this room. Do you understand?” He nodded, unable to speak. She handed him a tissue. “Dry your eyes, William, you need to be strong.” She paused. “Or at least look strong. You are the future of Pemberley now. Georgiana may cry, I suppose, if she wishes. She is still a child, after all.”

_And what about me?_ he wanted to reply. _I am only eighteen._ He met Aunt Catherine’s gaze and carefully wiped his face clean of any evidence of tears. Trying to follow her example, he schooled his features to a blank expression. “Aunt,” he began, but his voice came out high and trembling. After several trials and errors, he found that by tucking his chin to his neck he could keep his voice low and deep. “Aunt Catherine, I’ve already gotten into Harvard early decision. I’ve withdrawn my applications from everywhere else.”

He withered under her disapproving look. She pursed her lips and hummed at him. “That does throw a wrench into things. I suppose you’ll have to go to Harvard then. You can still work at Pemberley during your summers, graduate in three years, and come back to San Francisco to get your MBA. Stanford Business school would suit you nicely. Gigi will have to come live with me while you’re at school, it’s not like there’s anywhere else for her to go.” And just like that the next five years of his life were all planned out for him. The room, the florescent lights, the pink chairs, the hospital smell, Aunt Catherine’s plan, it was all too claustrophobic. He needed to get out.

“Gigi,” he turned to his sister, who hadn’t said a word since they’d heard the news. “We’re going home now, alright?” She didn’t respond, but didn’t resist either.

“You shouldn’t wait up for me,” Aunt Catherine said. “I’ll probably be at Pemberley late.”

They walked back the way they came, through the peach colored hallways glowing with florescent lights. He had his arm around Gigi’s shoulders and she was leaning on him heavily. Each step was a small battle, as he walked bearing the weight of two. Unbidden, the memory of walking through the zoo on his father’s shoulders came to mind. _Is this how Dad felt all the time?_ He wondered. _How could he possibly bear it?_ _And more importantly, how will I?_

At length they reached the exit. And then, through the glass doors, he saw the news vans. He hadn’t even thought about the press. Fear, anxiety, and panic exploded in his stomach. Aunt Catherine’s words echoed in his ears, “Look strong. You are the future of Pemberley now.” He didn’t feel strong. William looked down at his sister, who was barely able to stand. He might not be able to do it for Catherine, but he could be strong for Gigi. He had to be strong for Gigi. William tightened his grip on his sister protectively. He took a breath and with every ounce of determination he had, he balled up his emotions and hid them somewhere inside his stomach. 

Tucking his chin to his neck again so that his voice wouldn’t tremble, he turned to Gigi. “There are some photographers and reporters out there,” he said, stroking her hair. “We’re not going to talk to them, and we’re just going to walk right past them. Whatever they say, just keep walking.” She didn’t respond at all. He pushed open the door and stepped into the spring night. He heard the camera go off, and the night was broken by a flash of white, but he hurried on, fighting viciously to keep the veneer of calm on his face from breaking.

The picture would be splashed across the front page of the local section in the paper the following morning: the newly orphaned children emerging from the hospital together. William just beginning to fill out his long and lanky frame, his blazer creased from the long hours spent sitting, had an arm protectively wrapped around his sister, as if trying to shield her from the camera’s view. Gigi’s school sweater hung limply off her shoulders, her blouse was untucked from her skirt, and her face was mostly obscured by a curtain of dark hair. She was very small next to her much taller brother. William Darcy looked directly at the camera, face emotionless, every muscle tensed, chin pressed against his neck, and eyes full of pain and accusation.


	4. A Night Without a Dawning

It was like an alternate universe, their old house, nothing had changed. Everything was different. Gigi took one look at the atrium’s walls covered in pictures of the Darcy family, burst into tears again, and ran to her room. William let her go. He didn’t have the energy to give chase or try to hold her back. The slamming door echoed dully in the dark house. Finally alone, William allowed his face to relax. His parents’ smiling faces blurred as the tears he’d been holding back seeped through his lashes. He slid to the ground, pressing his forehead to his knees, leaning against the front door.

He’d been sitting there long enough to get stiff when he heard a knock at the door. _Leave me alone._ William scrubbed his face with his hands and stood up. He considered straightening his tie, but decided it wasn’t worth it. Opening the door he found himself face to face with his next door neighbor Fitz Williams, holding a large casserole pan. “Hey, Will D, how are you holding up? They told all the Pemberley employees what happened this afternoon, with the accident and all, and my Dad called me after school. My mom made you guys a lasagna, because that’s what she does when anything bad happens. I saw your car come back and thought I’d bring it on over. How are your folks doing-” He saw William’s face and stopped in his tracks. They stood facing each other in silence. Neither one had words.

“They’re dead.” William finally said hollowly. Seeing Fitz without his characteristic smile was too much, and he felt himself slipping again.

“I’m so sorry, man.” Fitz’s eyes were full of sympathy. They stood there in silence, William clinging to the lasagna for dear life. Fitz didn’t know what to say, and William was unable to speak.

“I’m going to put it in the kitchen,” William said robotically and walked away. Fitz followed him through the dark, empty house. William placed the dish on the granite counter and crumpled into a seat at the breakfast table, covering his face with his hands. Fitz turned the light on and sat next to his friend.

“Jesus.” Fitz said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Anything I can do. Anything my family can do. Man. You know we’ve got it, right?”

“Thanks, Fitz,” William mumbled into his hands.

“Where’s Gigi? How is she doing?” Fitz looked around.

The mention of his sister brought William out of his daze. “I don’t know. She’s not said two whole words since she heard. As soon as we got back she ran up to her room and slammed the door. I haven’t heard a peep from her since.” He looked helplessly at Fitz. “Should I talk to her? What should I say? I don’t know.”

“I think you should try.” Fitz had never seen William Darcy so defeated. “I think you have to try.” Fitz stayed for another half an hour. Occasionally they’d exchange a few words but for the most part, silence was the rule. “My parents are going to start wondering where I am, and I’ve got to tell my mom the news. I can come back after, if...” he trailed off.

“That’s alright Fitz. I think I need to spend some time alone with this. Could your parents talk to the school? We won’t be in tomorrow and maybe not the next day either.”

“Totally. Don’t worry about any of that. We’ll take care of it. I can get any work from your teachers, and copy my notes for you. Let us know if there’s anything else. Anything. Absolutely anything.”

“Thanks, Fitz.” William didn’t move as his friend left.

He sat alone, too weak to move until his stomach rumbled. He would have to eat eventually. William walked up the stairs and stood at Gigi’s door. “Gigi?” No response. “Gigi? It's William. Are you hungry?”

“No. Go away.”

“You need to eat something,” he called through the door.

“Leave me alone.” There wasn’t anything he could say to that, so he went downstairs back to the kitchen. He cut two pieces from the tray Fitz had left, and put them in the microwave, picking his best guess for the appropriate settings. He left the microwave whirring and went back up to try his sister again.

“Gigi?” He asked the door.

“I said leave me alone,” it replied.

He put his hands in his pockets. “Gigi. I’m making dinner. Please,” his voice trembled on the last word, “come down and eat. You don’t have to say anything. You’ll feel better if you eat something.”

“You can’t make me.” He sighed and returned to the kitchen, alone. William was greeted by the microwave beeping that it was finished. He looked at the empty table, the microwave, and back to the table. Gathering up the silverware, he took the two plates back up to his sister’s closed door.

“Gigi?”

“Go away. I never want to talk to you again.”

Undaunted, he pressed on, “Can I come in? I brought some food. I’ll just leave it. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”

“Fine,” she called out.

He opened the door cautiously, as if it might be boobytrapped. The room was dark. There was a lump of school uniform on the bed that he supposed was his sister. He left the plates and silverware on her nightstand, and knelt by the edge of her bed. He reached out to touch her shoulder. Gigi uncoiled like a spring and leapt to her feet. Her hair was wild, her eyes were bloodshot, and there was a web of red streaks on her cheek from where it had been pressed into the sheets. When she spoke, her voice was raspy. “Don’t touch me, William” she screamed. “Don’t you dare.”

“Gigi-” he began, rising to his feet again.

“Stop,” she shrieked, “Stop it. You don’t have to do this you know. It probably takes a lot of effort, and you’re not fooling anyone.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“I’m talking about you pretending you care about me,” she spat. “Just stop. Stop acting like you care about me, about Mom, about Dad, or about anyone other than yourself.”

“How can you say that?” His voice shook, and another spring of tears welled up in his eyes. “I promised Mom I’d take care of you, and I intend to keep my word. Do you think this is easy for me? Yesterday I just had to worry about my classes, now on top of being a teenager, I’m the future of a multi-million dollar company, and I’m supposed to take care of you too!” He knew the last line came out bitter, but he couldn’t help his temper.

“And how exactly is running off to college across the country and leaving me alone with Aunt Catherine taking care of me?” Gigi asked. “Because from where I’m standing it looks more like abandoning me to pursue your own agenda.” Gigi burst into silent tears. “You can’t leave me with her, William. You can’t. She hates me. I already feel like I’ll never be happy ever again! If I have to go live with her, I’ll be sure of it.”

When Gigi had finished her rant, William slowly approached her again. She collapsed into his arms. “Gigi, that was Aunt Catherine’s plan. I never said I was going to leave you. I do have to go to college, but if you don’t want to go live with Aunt Catherine, you won’t have to.”

“But how is that possible? Where else can I go? Aunt Catherine was right. I don’t have anywhere else. I don’t have anyone else.” She wept.

His chest tightened with worry. “I don’t know,” he murmured into her hair. “But I’ll think of something.”

“Promise?” Her question was muffled by his shirt.

He gave her a squeeze, “I promise. But only if you eat something.” He handed her a plate and a fork. They ate together on her bed in the dark. William had done a terrible job heating it. The center of each piece was still cold as ice. They ate it anyway.

“Where did this come from?” Gigi asked, gesturing to the lasagna with her fork.

“Fitz dropped it off. His mom made it.”

“That was nice of her.” William nodded mutely in response. When they were finished eating, he took the plates downstairs and left them in the sink. He turned off the lights, and made his way back upstairs. Gigi poked her head out when she heard his footsteps. “I’m going to try to get some sleep,” she informed him.

“That’s a good idea. Don’t forget to brush your teeth. And don’t worry about school tomorrow. I told Fitz to tell them we wouldn’t be in.”

 “Goodnight William.”

“It won’t be a good night. But hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.” He gave her a weak smile and went to his own room. He’d left his school jacket and tie downstairs, but he was too exhausted to go and retrieve them. He peeled his shirt off, it was creased and covered in sweat, tears, and hospital smell. Even after he’d showered and was lying in his bed wearing pajamas he could still faintly make out that distinctive scent, and he still felt the imprints of tear tracks on his face, as if they’d been burned there with acid.

He was tired, and the house was dark and silent, but he couldn’t sleep. Absent was the familiar murmuring of his parents talking about work, or on the phone with investors. He rolled tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position. The gray blankets were so heavy he struggled to breathe. William took deep, measured breaths, trying to clear his mind. The red numbers on his clock kept moving. Aunt Catherine let herself in, and he heard her settle into one of the guest rooms. Eventually, even she fell silent again. He slid out from under the covers and walked down the hallway to Gigi’s room. The door was open a crack. He placed a hand on it, and slowly pushed it open. Gently swinging it closed behind him, he stepped into the room. Gigi was asleep in bed. Her wet hair was spread across the pillow, and her breathing was soft and even. William quietly walked to the end of her bed, and sat on the floor, pressing his back against the cold wall.

If he stretched his legs out straight, he could just barely dip his toes in the pool of moonlight on the floor. He listened to Gigi’s breathing and watched the pool of moonlight creep up his legs and towards his chest, thinking about Aunt Catherine, Harvard, Gigi, Pemberley, and his parents: all the people he’d made promises to, all the people he couldn’t disappoint. He felt like a carcass being picked over by hungry lions. He didn't sleep; he spent the night trying to come to grips with his new reality.


	5. Do For Others

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of Saturday I'm going on vacation to the beach with my family. I don't know what my internet situation will be like there. You can be sure of a new chapter on Friday. I will post on my tumblr (mock-hells-hero) to let you know what the situation is when I get to the beach. If I have internet there, updates will continue every other day as they have in the past. If I do not have internet, after Friday's update, the next update will be Monday, June 24. Thank you for reading, and I appreciate your patience.

William was still in his pajamas drinking coffee when Aunt Catherine came down for breakfast. “William! What are you doing in your pajamas," his Aunt exclaimed. "The driver will be here in fifteen minutes!”

“The driver? Where are we going?” He asked blearily.

“We’re giving a press conference at Pemberley. You and Gigi need to be ready to go. You know how I feel about punctuality.” William sighed heavily and jogged off to get himself ready. Fifteen chaotic minutes later, somehow he, Gigi, and Aunt Catherine were in the back of a car, driving to Pemberley. Gigi wore the only black dress she’d been able find; it was a size too small, and she kept pulling at the hem. Aunt Catherine wore her usual severe skirt suit, and lectured them the entire way. “William, whatever you do, do not cry. You must look like a leader. These people are your employees now, and you must command respect. Gigi, it’s probably better if you don’t say anything. If you must speak, just say something about how much you miss them and what an inspiration they are. William, tell anyone who will listen that you want to follow in your father’s footsteps.” William shared an exasperated look with Gigi, who gave him what might have been a smile.

They followed Aunt Catherine through the familiar halls to the press room. Employees stared at them like animals in a zoo. When he was a child, William had loved coming to the office with his parents. All the employees had doted on him, and Reynolds, his father’s assistant, would sneak him candies when his parents weren’t looking. He’d spent hours reading in shady nooks of the rooftop garden. There were no familiar smiles on the employees faces now. They eyed him warily. Some had red eyes from tears, and all had faces drawn with grief. William fixed his gaze frontward and walked on.

They were early, as usual. The seats were still mostly empty; only a few reporters were around. William recognized most of the people clustered around the podium, there was his father’s lawyer Mr. Nelson, Fitz’s father who was one of the VPs, and Ms. Evans, his mother’s second in command. Aunt Catherine made a beeline for the podium, but he hung back. “Are you doing alright?” He murmured to his sister.

“I’m fine,” she whispered back, “I can’t breathe in this dress though. I wish Aunt Catherine would have let me wear the blue one. That one, actually, you know, isn’t a size too small. But no, it had to be black.” She made a face. William was glad to hear something of the Gigi he had known before coming back. He gave her a smile.

Fitz’s father detached himself from a stubborn Aunt Catherine, and walked over to where William and Gigi were standing. William instinctively stiffened, and carefully schooled his face to neutral. Tucking his chin to his neck to insure there would be no trembling in his voice, William greeted him and offered a hand. “Mr. Williams.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, William, you’ve never called me that in your life. There’s no reason to start now. Call me Mark.” Mark rejected the offered handshake and instead clapped William on the shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” Mark’s voice broke, “Your parents were great bosses, and great friends. The company won’t be the same. I know Sally sent over a lasagna last night, but you know we’re all here for you guys, right?” 

William nodded. “Tell her thanks, will you?”

“I will. And William, are you behind this scheme of your Aunt’s? Are you really trying to make a play for CEO? Because that isn’t going to happen. The board will never go for it, no offense, but you’re just too young. But I think they’re already leaning in my direction...” he trailed off, looking awkward.

“I’m not behind that. That’s all my Aunt. I’m just trying to take this one day at a time. And congratulations. I’m sure you’ll do great things for Pemberley.”

“I could say the same about you.”

The press conference was an insubstantial blur. Lots of “profound regrets.” Lots of questions from reporters that were answered with non-answers by the company PR guy. Aunt Catherine had a severely displeased look on her face, and William idly wondered if she was going to bite straight through her cheek. After the press conference there were seemingly endless meetings with lawyers about transferring ownership of Pemberley. Aunt Catherine talked a lot, and William not much at all. 

When the three of them were finally back in the car, Aunt Catherine exploded. She went on and on about the board and how ridiculous their standards were, and who was that Mark Williams guy anyway. William didn’t have the energy to argue with her about it, so he let her talk. The car dropped him and Gigi off at the house, but Catherine said she had some meetings, and she’d be home late, so she whizzed off again. Gigi watched the car drive away, and when it was finally gone, she turned to him and said, “Thank goodness. Now I’m getting out of this dress.” She ran off to the house. He followed, rather more slowly.

It was too late for lunch, and too early for dinner, but they were hungry, so they ate more of the lasagna together on the couch. “You’re getting better at the microwave,” Gigi observed.

“Shut up,” he responded.

“What are we supposed to do now?” She asked him.

“Well, we’re both going to finish the school year, and then I’m going to go to college in the fall-”

“No, stupid, I meant today. Like, right now. What am I supposed to do right now. I’m not in school...” She trailed off.

“Well, I have homework,” He patted the pile of documents his father’s lawyer had given him to read. “As for you, I don’t know, but I’m sure there’s something Aunt Catherine thinks you should be doing.” He smiled.

She sighed dramatically. “If I have to live with her until I graduate from high school, one of us will be dead before the end of it.” Gigi gestured threateningly with her fork. “And I can’t promise it won’t be her. I wish I were eighteen too, then I could just go to college with you. Maybe you could hide me in your suitcase and take me with you?” Gigi laughed at her own joke. “Well, since there’s nothing else to do, and I’m so totally over this sitting around and moping thing, I’m going for a swim.” She was trying so hard to be peppy, but it came off forced and awkward.

William waved as she ran off to the pool out back, and pulled the top document off the pile he’d set down on the couch. _Maybe you could hide me in your suitcase and take me with you_ , Gigi had said. “Maybe I can,” he whispered. Aunt Catherine would hate this idea he’d just had. Absolutely hate it. But, if Gigi’s statements before were accurate, it might save Aunt Catherine's life. _And it will keep what’s left of this family together,_ he thought to himself.


	6. Links of a Broken Chain

William Darcy woke up alone in the dark. The house was silent. The red glow from his clock told him it was a few minutes shy of four in the morning. He’d spent all evening reading the documents from the lawyer, trying to stave off sleep, but eventually he’d succumbed to drowsiness, and now he woke up in the middle of a pile of paper. The dreams had been waiting for him. He’d expected that. It had been flat, an endless desert, and he’d been driving. His parents had been in the back seat. The car wouldn’t stop, and it kept moving faster and faster. He fought to keep it under control, but there was nothing he could do.

Goosebumps sprung up on his arms. William picked up and smoothed out the papers to the best of his ability and took them over to his desk. Gently setting them down, he reached out to touch the handle of the top left drawer. With trembling fingers he pulled it open. The silver watch was there, right where he’d left it, covered in a thin layer of dust. He picked it up and wiped the face with his thumb, leaving a streak of bright silver shining in the moonlight. He flipped it open, and read the familiar engraving:

_William Harrison Darcy, Class of 1916._

_William Palmer Darcy, Class of 1942._

_William Spencer Darcy, Class of 1976._

_William Fitzwilliam Darcy, Class of 2008._

It was literally written in stone: William Fitzwilliam Darcy, Class of 2008. The black hand clicked another second forward, pushing the future into the past. “Sorry, Dad,” he whispered. Still holding the watch he went back to the bed. He tried to close his eyes again, and spent another couple hours floating between waking and sleeping. Throughout it all though, he clung to the watch so tightly he could feel the vibrations from its ticking through the silver casing.

When the crimson numbers read six thirty he woke up and padded downstairs. The day was overcast, and gray dawn light was just beginning to encroach on the house. William found his sister doing laps in the pool. He rolled his pajama pants up to his knees and dangled his legs in the water. It was freezing. He gasped, but stayed where he was. His legs quickly became numb to the cold. Eventually Gigi swam over to where he was sitting. Her lips were blue and her skin was pale. Water ran in rivulets down her cheeks and she wiped her eyes. A few dark strands of hair peeked out from under her blue swim cap.

“Are you crazy?” He asked her. “You’ll catch your death out here. This water is positively arctic.”

She shrugged. “Meh. You get numb after a while.” Gigi climbed out of the pool and wrapped herself in a pink towel. 

“That’s what worries me,” he said, watching her shiver. They walked into the house together, Gigi grabbed a banana from the bowl on the counter, and sat down to eat. “Gigi,” he began carefully, “I think there’s a way for you to come with me when I go to college. Aunt Catherine is going to hate it, so if you want to do it we’re going to need to present a united front.”

“I’m listening,” Gigi muttered around her mouthful of banana.

“There’s a boarding school, Ashford, about half an hour north of Harvard. When you finish eighth grade, instead of moving to the Upper School, you could go there. I could come visit you on weekends-”

He hadn’t even finished his plan before she hugged him, squealing, “Thank you thank you thank you! I knew you’d find a way! Wait, why won’t Aunt Catherine like it? She’ll be just as happy to be rid of me as I will be to be rid of her.” Gigi looked up at him, bewildered.

“Well, you won’t finish eighth grade for another year, and I’m supposed to start college in the fall, so for this plan to work I’d have to take a gap year. There aren’t any quality boarding schools that take eighth graders in the greater Boston area. I checked.” Gigi’s mouth formed an oh of understanding. “Aunt Catherine is intent on shuttling me through undergrad and an MBA in as little time as possible.”

“Please?” Gigi asked him softly.

“I’m an adult now,” he reminded her. “Aunt Catherine cannot make me do anything I don’t want to. She can fuss and bluster all she wants, but that won’t change the plan.”

“But what will you do for a year?”

“I’ll work at Pemberley. Shadow somebody probably. Maybe I’ll take a class or two.” He shrugged. “I can sort that out later. If we’re going to do this, I want to call Harvard before I talk to Aunt Catherine.”

“William, I would rather go live alone in Antarctica for a year than spend one month living alone with Aunt Catherine.”

“Alright then,” he said, “I’ll make the call.”  When he explained the situation, the admissions office was more than happy to let him differ his offer of admission for one year. It was the work of half an hour to get that sorted out. It would be much harder to convince Aunt Catherine.

He broached the subject that day at lunch. It was the first time the three of them had sat down to a proper meal together since the accident. Aunt Catherine had called in the cook and he had made a salmon salad. William barely tasted it, but his Aunt seemed to enjoy it. “It’s so lovely to have a proper meal. Not as good as what my chef makes back home, of course, but in this city, I suppose it will have to do. I should have brought Francis with me. Then you’d see what real food looks like. William, will they make sure you get good food at Harvard? Of course, back in my day, they did, but standards are slipping. Some of the food they serve now--well, they call it food--is positively barbaric.”

Realizing that if he didn’t stop her, she might just keep talking, William took a deep breath, reached into his pocket to touch the watch for courage, and blurted out, “Aunt Catherine I am going to take a gap year.”

She paused mid-chew, and swallowed hastily, “William, don’t be absurd. We talked about this, you’re going to graduate in three years, you need to get yourself to a position to take the helm of this company as quickly as possible. Who put that nonsense into your head? Why on earth would you even want to take a gap year? You have a duty to your family and the company you now own. I would have expected your father to instill a better work ethic. I suppose that’s just the times we’re living in. Children now are afraid to do any work-”

He looked across the table at Gigi, who stared back at him with large, pleading eyes. “Aunt Catherine, I beg your pardon, but we never discussed anything. You articulated what you thought was the best course of action. I am now telling you what I am going to do. I am going to take a gap year. I will spend this gap year working at Pemberley, taking a class at Stanford, and taking care of my family-”

“First, didn’t your parents teach you not to interrupt people?” William grabbed the watch in his pocket even more tightly as she fixed him with a stare. “And secondly, how can you say you are taking care of your family? What about the memory of your mother and your father? Do you have no regard for their wishes?” She looked at him again.

William looked at Gigi who was pale and picking at her food and then back at Aunt Catherine, who was still speaking. “Aunt Catherine, would you do me the favor of listening to me? When I say I am taking care of my family I mean my sister, who is among the only living family I have left. And as for your insulting implication that I am acting against my parents wishes, the morning before she died-” William paused to make sure his voice didn’t tremble, “I promised my mother that I would care for my sister. I think you are gravely mistaken if you believe that my parents would desire me to put anything in the whole world above her welfare. Upon this point I am quite decided. I have already called the school and explained the situation. I will not be graduating in three years. I will graduate with the class of 2009. I want to keep whatever shreds I can manage to stitch together of a normal childhood. Now, if you would excuse me, I have a eulogy to write.” He turned and walked upstairs without looking at her. He heard her call out after him, but he didn’t stop walking until he reached his room and closed the door behind him.

He collapsed in angry tears on his bed. _How dare she? How dare she say I don’t care about my family? Gigi is practically the only thing left in this world that I care about._ He looked at the watch again, the second hand moving incessantly around the edge of the circle, and the familiar engraving: _William Fitzwilliam Darcy, Class of 2008._ “Not anymore,” he whispered, “Sorry, Dad.” _What if I’m wrong? What if Dad would rather I focus on the company? He was so passionate about me following in his footsteps..._ A tear fell from his chin and landed on the words, distorting them; the straight, crisp lines of the engraving tangled and blurred under the film of water.


	7. Let Others Do For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no update yesterday, but I had no internet. The internet here is shaky, but I hope to continue posting every other day from here on out. (Next update Wednesday).

It felt strange to put on his school uniform again. The khakis and jacket he’d worn for almost four years had become uncomfortable and childish overnight. He made sure Gigi had breakfast, and she had all her books in her backpack. They walked out to the car hand in hand. As they pulled out of the driveway, he turned to his sister who was staring absentmindedly out of the window. “Are you going to be alright today?”

“I think so. I hope so. But I have to go back eventually. Might as well be today.”

He smiled. “That’s my sister.” They drove the rest of the way in silence. He pulled up to the middle school, and as she retrieved her bag from the front seat, he said, “Remember, if you want to leave, just call me. I’ll come and get you and take you home. Promise me you won’t push yourself too hard?”

She promised, and walked up to the school. William thought it looked even larger and more imposing than it usually did. Or maybe his sister looked smaller. She soon disappeared into the mass of black skirts and sweaters and pants and jackets. He pulled away, and his own apprehension soon engulfed the anxiety he felt for his sister. He parked in the student lot and grabbed his shoulder bag from the trunk. He’d been inside for almost two days straight, so the sunshine felt strange on his face. His eyes had become accustomed to florescent lights; the bright colors of daylight seemed unfamiliar and strange.

They were so loud, his classmates. For the past two days the house had felt so unnaturally quiet, but now that he’d left it, he found the chatter and laughter and yelling overwhelming. The noise washed over him in waves and he felt as if one might overtake him at any moment as he walked through the halls to his locker. He felt the eyes on him, and saw people nudging each other and whispering as he passed by. The crowds in the hall parted for him as if he had a disease. He met as many of the stares as he could, trying to prove to himself, and everyone else, that he wasn’t afraid of them.

When he got to his locker he spent longer than he needed to gathering his notebooks, hiding his face behind the door to his locker and taking deep breaths trying to calm his pounding heart. “Hey, William?” A shrill female voice startled him. He jumped, slammed his locker shut, and spun around.

“What?” He snapped, searching for the source of the intrusion. A very short blond girl was standing just to his left. Her pale skin was dotted with freckles and her grey eyes were watery.

“I just, um, wanted to offer my condolences and...” she turned very red, and shuffled her feet.

“Who are you?” He asked sharply. He felt his voice beginning to tremble again, and he tucked his chin to regain control of it, a gesture he found himself repeating more and more often.

“Sorry?” she squeaked.

“I don’t know you.”

“Emily,” she responded, “Emily Carr. We were lab partners in AP Chemistry last year.”

“Oh. Now I remember. You burned a hole in my shirt, and you danced the macarena at junior prom.” He supposed, if he’d put in the effort, he could have kept the disdain from his voice, but it was loud and crowded in the hallway, and he really didn’t want to have this conversation. What was the point of it anyway? She’d offer her insincere condolences, and he’d offer his insincere thanks, and she’d walk away feeling like she’d done her duty, when really all she’d done was spend five minutes annoying him. It really would be far better if they could skip the whole pomp and circumstance and he could just go to class. So before she could say another word, he said, “I have to go,” and walked away.

William moved from class to class robotically, and with each period the pile of make-up work grew higher and higher. All of the teachers and staff looked at him with that horrible pitying look that he’d hated from the moment he’d first seen it on the secretary’s face when he’d gone to the office three days and two lifetimes ago.

He walked into the cafeteria, took one look at the seething mass of people screaming at each other, and walked out again. William wasn’t hungry anyway. He went to the library and found a little desk in the back, pulled out the documents he had to read for Pemberley, found his place in a memo on the company’s organizational structure, and began to read.

“William Darcy, welcome back.” He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but smile a little when he recognized Fitz’s voice. His friend looked concerned, “What are you doing hiding up here?”

“I’m reading. It was too loud in the cafeteria.” Fitz nodded, understanding the unspoken meanings in his friend’s statement. "You really shouldn't be studying at lunch, man," Fitz shook his head. "I know you've probably got a mountain of catch-up work to rival Everest, but you need a break." William opened his mouth to protest, but Fitz steamrolled on. "No. I don't wanna hear it. I see those dark circles man, you haven't been sleeping.” His eyes strayed to the paper on the desk. “What class is that even for, Will?”

William sighed and rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t just get rid of Fitz the way he’d done with Emily. “It’s a memo summarizing the organizational structure of Pemberley Digital. I got a whole stack of papers from my Parent’s lawyers to read. They want me to gain an understanding of the state of my father’s investments. I am barely halfway through the stuff they gave me, and I have a seemingly endless pile of make-up work, and I’m supposed to give my father’s eulogy. But every time I sit down to try to write it...” he left the sentence unfinished.

Fitz placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder and pulled up a chair. “The funeral’s not until Saturday, right?” William nodded. “You’ve got some time still, then.”

“I suppose so. I just wish I had something.”

“I have complete confidence in you.” Fitz smiled.

“That makes one of us.”

“Hey, what did you say to Emily this morning? Melissa said she was crying in First about something you did.”

“I don’t know. She came up to offer me her condolences, and I didn't recognizer her, so I asked who she was.” He shrugged.

Fitz shook his head. “Well, that explains it. You were lab partners for three months. You should know who she is. Add to that the fact that she has a gigantic crush on you and no wonder she was so upset. Look, I know you’re under a lot of strain right now, but you should at least make an effort. She was just trying to be nice. You’re going to need to have some tact when you get to Harvard next year. Or at least you will if you want to have friends.”

“Speaking of...” William took a deep breath, “I’m not going to Harvard next year. I’m taking a gap year.”

Fitz gaped. “Wait. Really? Why?”

William explained, “According to the terms of the will, I’m Gigi’s guardian now. Aunt Catherine offered to take her while I’m at college, but she and Gigi get along about as well as the Montagues and the Capulets. So I’ll take a year, care for Gigi while she’s in eighth grade, and then for high school she’ll go to a boarding school near Harvard so I can keep an eye on her.”

“Look at you,” Fitz smiled. “I’m sure Catherine loved that plan.”

“About as much as you might imagine. But I hoped you would ask your father if I could work at Pemberley for the year. I know I’m too young to step into a position of authority at the moment, but I would like to take advantage of the opportunity to gain experience working at the company.”

“I will,” Fitz promised. “I’m sure he’ll think it’s a great idea.”

“Thanks, Fitz.”

“No problem, Will D. I’ll let you get back to work. I know it feels like a lot, but I'm sure you can manage it.” Fitz jogged off, flashing the librarian a thumbs up and a smile on his way out.  William ran his hand through his hair and turned back to his reading. If he finished this packet during lunch, he could probably start on make-up work while he was waiting for Gigi to finish swim practice and then after dinner he could try writing his speech again. If he just kept working, maybe eventually it would all get done. He had to believe that. He pushed the thought of the eulogy to the back of his mind; he could worry about that later.


	8. Be Courageous

When Aunt Catherine announced at dinner than she’d be leaving the Monday after the funeral to go back to work, it was all William could do not to cheer. Gigi was less able to hide her excitement. He saw her hide a grin with her hand. He’d been able to make more progress on his schoolwork than he’d anticipated in the bleachers at the middle school pool watching while Gigi swam laps at her swimming practice, so he returned to work after the meal with a spring in his step. His happiness was brief, however, because he soon found himself staring at the blank word document “Eulogy” again.

 _Dad_ , he typed, scowled at his screen and then erased it. He tried _My Father_ , and then exchanged that for _William Darcy_. He erased that too. William stared accusingly at the blank document, pushed his chair back from the desk and went to make sure Gigi was asleep.

William tapped on her door, then pushed it open gently, “Gigi? Are you asleep?”

“Not yet. Did you make any progress?” 

“Not yet.” He sighed, “I can’t think of anything to say that everyone doesn’t already know.”

“I don’t think that’s the point of a eulogy. I think you’re supposed to say what everyone knows. It’s not supposed to be original, it’s supposed to be comforting.”

“Thanks for the words of wisdom, Gigi. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Goodnight, brother. Don’t stay up too late, ok?”

“I’ll try,” smiling, he gently shut the door behind him and returned to his desk. The blank screen stared back at him. Rubbing his eyes, he thought about what Gigi had said. Comforting. Several hundred people were going to be looking to him for comfort. William felt like he was twelve years old again, back when his five-year-old sister would look to him when she skinned her knee, and panicking, he would run to his parents, unsure of what to do. Now he had no parents to run to, and instead of comforting Gigi, he was looking to her for support.

“Maybe everyone is right,” he muttered, “maybe I am too young.” _They’d all been saying it ever since the accident. Either with their words or that horrible look._ He looked at the silver watch, sitting on his desk next to the keyboard. Fitz’s father’s statement rang in his ears, “you’re just too young.”

“I’m too young to take control of a company, but somehow old enough to be responsible for a twelve-year-old girl’s well being. Where’s the logic in that?” William chuckled wryly to himself.  But when he thought about it, he’d done alright by Gigi so far. He’d listened to her, he’d fought for her interests, and he’d done his best to be there for her. He was old enough to do those things; he’d been old enough to do those things since he was sixteen.

An idea was brewing in his mind, a dangerous idea. But the more he thought about the way the board was writing him off because of his age, the angrier he got. “They don’t even know me. They didn’t even bother to get to know me. They decided I was juvenile and moved on. There are things I do not know, but even with an MBA I wouldn’t know everything. I practically grew up at Pemberley Digital. It is as much a part of the Darcy family as I am.” William muttered under his breath. “And Dad wanted me to follow in his footsteps so dearly. It’s the least I can do. Aunt Catherine was right, I do have a duty to his memory.”

And from that tirade, he found the voice for his eulogy. It wasn’t smooth writing; he would write a paragraph, delete half of it, stare at what remained for a while, then rewrite it a few more times. By the time he finished, the sky was lightening, and his face was covered in a thin film of tears. He read it over one last time, saved his document and went to bed.

As he tossed and turned in a shaft of pinkish gray morning light, a small voice in the back of his head berated him. _You’re crazy. You can’t have both. You can’t do everything. You’ll break. You’ll slip up. You’ll make a fool of yourself. Gigi will hate you. Fitz will hate you. Everyone will hate you. You’d run Pemberley into the ground anyway, so what’s the point of even trying?_ That voice had been his constant companion since he’d first held his sister that day at the hospital. But this time he fought back. _No. You’re wrong. It is possible. My father did both. He had confidence in me, and he was always right. It will not be easy, but as Dad says--said-- nothing worth doing ever is._

William gave up on sleep, as he had for many of the past nights. He dressed to go biking, idly wondering if he would ever sleep soundly again. He rode rode north as fast as he could until his legs ached and his lungs burned, and there was no room in his head for thoughts of failure, eulogies, or Gigi. He arrived back at home just as the sun burst through the clouds. William put the bike back in the garage. Lying on his back in the grass, feeling the sun burning down brightly on his sweaty face, he took a second to breathe heavily and enjoy one of the last carefree moments he would likely have in his life. All too soon, he had to go inside to shower and change to begin another day.


	9. Be True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've got a poll running at my tumblr about what I'm going to write next. Help decide which of my plot bunnies will get a home next! [ Here's a link to the post.](http://mock-hells-hero.tumblr.com/post/53417456152/poll-what-should-i-write-next)

William was in the library during lunch period racing through a physics homework assignment. Ever since the accident, the library was quickly becoming his favorite place. It was usually not crowded, and it was quiet. As an additional bonus, no one came to look for him there, and if he kept his mind busy, he could almost forget about everything else. He looked up from his work briefly to check the time and did a double take. Unless his eyes were deceiving him, George Wickham was in the library. _I’m shocked he knows where it is._ William thought sarcastically. More remarkably, George appeared to be walking directly towards him. George crumpled into the chair next to William, stretched out his legs, and laced his hands together behind his head.

“Will, Fitz said I might find you here.”

“George,” William said incredulously. “I haven’t seen you in days.”

“I know, man,” George smirked. “I heard about what happened to your folks. It’s awful.” William doubted he meant a word of it. “I suppose that explains why you weren’t at my game yesterday.”

William wished he’d just cut to the chase. “What do you want, George?”

“Look, I know this is totally awkward, and if there was any other way I wouldn’t be here. Here’s the deal. I’ve gotten an offer from Cornell to swim there, and I want to accept it.”

“Congratulations.” William said.

“But here’s the thing, the scholarship they’re giving me will only cover about half of the tuition, and that trust your dad set up for me is only good for Harvard. I know he really wanted me to go there, but I can’t imagine not swimming at college, and the coaches at Harvard have made it pretty clear that that won’t be a possibility for me there. I was hoping there might be a way for me to get the money for Cornell instead.” He looked at William expectantly.

“Well,” William began, “my father, his lawyer, and Mark Williams were the trustees, but now that he’s died I suppose it’s me instead of my father. Once things are more settled, I can write up a new set of guidelines for the trust, the three of us can meet, and make the appropriate adjustments, and vote to enact them.”

George swept his hair out of his eyes. “Do you know when that might be? I need to put down a deposit soon, to secure my spot and I’ll need some money for that.”

“George,” William sighed. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. I can try to get to it by the end of the month. Will that be soon enough?”

“Probably not. I’m sorry. I know this timing sucks. What if you just dissolved the trust, and gave me the money? Wouldn’t that be easier? Then I wouldn’t have to keep bothering you about it. I bet dissolving it is easier than rewriting the terms.” William hesitated. “Come on, please?” Wickham pouted.

 _If I hand him that money, it’ll be gone in two years. On the other hand, it won’t be my problem anymore, and it’ll get him off my back. I can’t take care of Gigi, run Pemberley, and deal with George._ “I’ll send the emails tonight. I should be able to have the paperwork for you to sign in a week. Will that be suitable?”

George smiled, “That’ll be just great. Thanks Will.” He got up and loped away. William watched him go, conflicted. _Dad would want me to help him, but he’s so juvenile. He’s not ready to take charge of that much money or for that much responsibility. He’s what the board thinks I am, so I’ll have to show them that he’s everything I’m not._ William pulled out his laptop and sent the email to his father’s lawyer, _now my lawyer, I suppose,_ William noted. He wrote the same email to Mark Williams. William hovered his finger hovered over the send key. _Should I tell him I changed my mind, and I am going to make a play for CEO? Will he be mad?_ After some careful consideration, he added a couple lines to the bottom of the email. Then he erased them. Finally, he sent the email as it had been originally. That was the sort of thing he should tell Fitz’s father in person. He owed him that courtesy at least. And that way he could see Mark’s face. The bell rung, William gathered up his things, and went back into the hustle and bustle of the hallways again.

When the last bell of the day rung, William raced to his locker, trying to stay ahead of the crowd of laughing, rowdy students. As he packed his bag, the mob writhed around him, alternately pressing him into his locker and pulling him downstream. Panic rose in his throat, and his heart began to race. It didn’t settle until he reached his second place of refuge. The swimming pool. He’d taken to working in the bleachers while Gigi practiced. The warmth was comforting, and he found he grew accustomed to the chlorine smell. It was quiet, save the swimmers splashing and the coach’s instructions. William hunched over his physics work, ignoring the aching in his back. He finished that assignment, and had just started his reading for English when Gigi emerged from the locker room smelling of shampoo and chlorine.

“Hello, Gigi,” he greeted her. “Are you ready to go?”

“Hello, William. Let’s get out of here.” Gigi gave him a grin. His heart swelled, and for a second he felt that this new normal might not be so bad. William helped her carry her bag out to the car and, feeling like having a little fun, he offered her his arm as she climbed into the car. She beamed at him, and he tentatively smiled back. As they drove back together, Gigi chatted about the card her friends had made her, and the choir performance she wanted to go to in April.

William and Gigi pulled up to the house, which was dark and empty. “Where’s Aunt Catherine?” Gigi asked.

“She texted me, she’s going to eat dinner in the city. She was dealing with some last minute arrangements for the funeral, and she got held up. She says not to wait up for her.”

“Excellent,” Gigi’s eyes sparkled. She leaned on the counter and spoke enthusiastically about the second she’d dropped from her 200 IM and the new dog her friend Lucy had gotten. William split the last of the lasagna and put it in the microwave, then busied himself with cleaning the pan, listening all the while to Gigi’s stories. He smiled to himself as he scrubbed a particularly stubborn bit of cheese. If this was how life was going to be, maybe it would be something he could live with. When the timer went off, he removed the food from the microwave, and they ate perched on the stools at the island in the kitchen.

When their plates had been scraped clean, William took a sip of water and turned to his sister. “Gigi, I want to ask you something.”

“Okay.” His sister looked up at him with sparkling eyes. “Shoot.”

“I’ve been considering putting myself forward as a candidate for Dad’s job. It would be a lot of hard work, and it would mean less time for me to spend with you. If you would prefer I didn’t--If you would like me to remain--I do not want you to feel I am abandoning--”

Tears glimmered in his sister’s blue eyes, still a little bloodshot from the chlorine. She gently placed a hand on his arm.  “Go for it, brother. You’ve made enough sacrifices for me already.

“Thank you, Gigi.” He placed his hand on top of hers. Her hand was so small he could completely cover it with his own. “I promise, no matter what, I will do my best to be there for you.”

A few tears twinkled on Gigi’s cheeks. “That’s a two-way street, William.” She gave his hand a squeeze.

“We’ll get through these trials together,” he said, returning her squeeze and smiling. 

Her lips twitched, “You know, today is the first day where I’ve really felt like I might actually be able to keep going and get to a happy place again.”

“That is excellent. Why don’t we celebrate with a movie? I’ll even let you pick.”

“Sense and Sensibility!”

William smiled, he’d known his sister would choose that movie. She always chose that movie. “Give me 20 minutes or so to run this pan back to Fitz’s, and then we can start it. I need to talk to Fitz’s Dad about something.”

He grabbed the pan and set off across the lawns that separated his house from Fitz’s. The evening dew coated his shoes, and as he walked he rehearsed what he was going to say to Mark. How would Mark react? Would he be angry? William found himself staring at the brass knocker. _Only one way to find out,_ he thought, and knocked on the door three times.


	10. A Strong Foundation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the unexpected hiatus. I've been dealing with some family buisiness the past few days. I should be back on track though with the next update on Monday. 
> 
> Some housekeeping:  
> There are five chapters left of Forever Young.  
> These will be posted Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday, Tuesday.  
> My poll ended up as a tie between Thanksgiving 2013, and Christmas 2014.  
> I think I'm going to start with Thanksgiving 2013.  
> I don't know when I will begin posting that one, but it might be a while.

“William,” Fitz’s mother opened the door. Sally Williams was tall and willowy. A professional oboist with the San Francisco, her voice was low and musical.  She greeted him with a sad smile and a warm embrace. “Come in. How are you holding up? Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Williams, you’ve already done plenty. In fact, I am here to return this.” He handed her the lasagna pan. “Thank you so much, it was a lifesaver. And delicious.”

“You’re welcome William. Anytime. And it’s Sally to you, don’t be ridiculous.” She patted him on the shoulder, “I’ve got a student, so I can’t chat, but we’re having dinner in an hour. We’d love to have you and your sister.”

William took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets so she wouldn’t see them trembling. “Thank you, but we’ve already eaten. I was also hoping for a word with your husband. If he’s at home, and he’s not busy. Would that be alright?”

“I’m sure that will be fine. He just got home from work; he’s in his office upstairs. It’s up the stairs, take a left, and then the second door on your right.”

The door was open, but William rapped on the frame anyway, to announce his presence. “William! I thought I heard your voice. What can I do for you?” Mark Williams was seated in a leather chair, hands folded neatly in his lap, staring attentively at William.

After a few false starts, William explained, “Mr. Williams, a few days ago, at the press conference, I told you that I had no plans to reach for my father’s position. I have since reconsidered, and I have decided that I will put myself forward as a candidate. I know you are also under consideration for the job, and I hope you will not in any way take my actions personally. You have expressed the view that I am too young, but-“ his voice wavered. “But Pemberley Digital is in my blood. I know that my father was worried about falling audiences in the Japanese markets, and I know that he was trying to create a new Division of Mobile Technology to counter that trend. I’ve read the financial returns for the past three years, and I know that with the kind of profits we’ve been posting, Pemberley Digital should probably reinvest two percent of that money back into R and D.” William paused to catch his breath. “I would be a good CEO. I want to be the CEO. For my Dad.”

After William finished his statement, Mark Williams sat still for a long time. Finally he said slowly, “William, you really are your father’s son. I’ve been expecting you to come tell me something like this ever since Fitz asked me if I’d be willing to let you shadow me during your gap year.” He paused again. “And I agree with you. I have always thought you would make the best successor to your father. Unfortunately, it’s not me you need to convince, and the board will never be able to look past your age; I guarantee it. In five or six years you’ll be done with college, and you’ll have enough summer experience, and you can try again then.”

“Mr. Williams-“

“Mark”

“Mark, I am under no delusions that I can manage the day-to-day running of Pemberley Digital while I am at college. I have seen how hard my father works—worked—for this company, and I know it would be impossible. In mediaeval times, when the heir to the throne was too young, a regent would be appointed. I am hoping that by highlighting the advantages with respect to PR and stability, I can convince the board that rather than hiring a new CEO, their best option is to name me CEO immediately, and then allow me to appoint an acting CEO. The acting CEO would manage the company until I graduate from college, and during the summers we could work together. I could learn from the experience of working with him, so when I graduate from college, I am prepared to accept the responsibility of leading this company.”

Mark pursed his lips together and squinted. William could see his brain humming with activity. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, William. It’s not a bad plan, either. This Acting CEO would have to be someone immensely qualified, someone with extensive experience at Pemberley Digital, and someone who you trusted absolutely.”

“I was hoping you would consider taking the job, sir.” William felt his legs beginning to shake. This was the crucial part of his plan. If Mark Williams wouldn’t agree to be his Acting CEO, there was no one else who could do the job and give the board enough confidence to take on a young CEO. William’s dreams would burn before his eyes.

Mark slowly stood up and walked over to place a hand on William’s shoulder. “The board is going to meet in a week to discuss the issue of your father’s successor. You’ve inherited your father’s stake in the company, so you’ll be there. Starting day after tomorrow, come over here every night after dinner, and we’ll work on your presentation. It’s going to need to be flawless.”

“Thank you,” William breathed a sigh of relief. “If you would excuse me, I must return to my sister.”

“Of course. Give her my best, would you?” William nodded and left Fitz’s house quickly. He covered the distance separating the two houses with equal alacrity; his long legs ate up the distance.

“Gigi, I have returned.” He announced as he shut the door behind him.

“Excellent. I’ve got a bowl of popcorn and the movie’s all set up.” He heard her voice floating up from the basement TV room. He carefully worked his way down the stairs and to his sister, taking off his tie and jacket as he went. She’d already dimmed the lights, but her pale face gleamed in the light of the doorway. She was sitting on her knees, facing the wrong way, her arms draped over the back of the couch. Gigi’s expression was wide and expectant. “So? How’d it go?”

“How did what go?” William asked her, draping his coat and tie on the back of the couch.

“You asking Mark if he’d back you for CEO,” His sister said around a mouthful of popcorn. William started. He hadn’t realized she’d understood what he’d been doing over at Fitz’s. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. There’s no way you’d be that nervous about returning a tray to Sally. It wasn’t exactly a difficult leap.”

“You, dearest sister, are entirely too perceptive for your own good.” He rubbed her head. “And it went very well. Mark is willing to assist me.”

“Great,” Gigi said, her thoughts already moving away from Pemberley and towards the movie. Gigi fell asleep with her head on his shoulder halfway through the movie, but he didn’t move until the credits rolled. He gently nudged her awake, and walked her upstairs to brush her teeth and go to bed. She was asleep the instant her hair brushed the pillow.

“Goodnight, Gigi,” he whispered. “Sleep well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if any of you are mad about the buisiness side of this, keep in mind that Darcy Memorial Hall began construction in early 2005, which allowing for a year of planning and such, means early 2004 is probably about when his parents died. If you have William be graduated from college at that point then he's 22 in 2004 that puts him at 31 by the end of the diaries. We don't have an age for Darcy in the LBD, but I don't think 31 is sensible for the character. I always had him in the 26-27-28 range, so when the time came to for me to pick a year for Darcy to be born in, I headcannoned him to turn 27 during the diaries. So the dates I've been given combined with the sensible ages of the actor, mean Darcy has to be 17 18 or 19 when his parents die. Combine this with the fact that the website states fairly clearly that Darcy was his father's immediate successor, and you have issues. As you can see this wasn't a choice I made on a whim. I've thought about the ages and dates for this storyline a lot. Quite a lot. SO MUCH.
> 
> TLDR: Not my fault, this is what the numbers say.


	11. Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some housekeeping:  
> There are five chapters left of Forever Young.  
> These will be posted Today, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday, Tuesday.  
> My poll ended up as a tie between Thanksgiving 2013, and Christmas 2014.  
> I think I'm going to start with Thanksgiving 2013.  
> I don't know when I will begin posting that one, but it might be a while.

Finally, it was Friday. As the last bell rang, and William made his now familiar escape to the pool, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. William sighed with relief as the chatter of the school left his ears, and the smell of chlorine entered his nose. The warm air swirled around him. The pool was empty when he got there; the middle school team came over from their separate campus on a bus; they must be running late. The coach was already waiting on the deck, clipboard in hand, and he gave William a wave. William awkwardly returned it.

“Hey, you’re Gigi’s brother, aren’t you?” The coach’s voice echoed in the cavernous room.

“Yes, sir.”

“Coach Paulson. I’m in charge of the Middle School Girls Swim Team.” He offered William a large sweaty palm.

“William Darcy. Pleasure to meet you.” William shook his hand.

“My sympathies about your folks. Your sister has been quite a trooper.”

“Thank you, sir. I am very impressed with how she’s handled it.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, does Gigi swim in a summer league? She’s got a lot of potential, and I think it would be really beneficial to her. She could swim division one, if she keeps her training up. I’m affiliated with a summer league, and if she’s not already involved with one I’d love to have her join.”

“I believe she does swim with a summer league, but I cannot recall the name-”

“Oh, good, William’s telling you already, Coach Paulson.” William hadn’t noticed his sister come up behind him and started when she joined the conversation.

“Telling him what?” William asked. Gigi pretended not to notice.

“Coach Paulson, here’s a note from my Aunt Catherine. She needs me to help her prepare for the funeral tomorrow. If you give me the workout though, I can complete it on my own at home tonight.” Gigi handed Coach Paulson the note, received some verbal instructions from her coach that William didn’t understand at all, and dragged a confused, sputtering William out of the pool.

“Gigi, I know Aunt Catherine doesn’t need you to help with the preparations for the funeral, so what’s this really about?” William asked when they reached his car.

“Okay, so don’t be mad, but” Gigi paused. William gave her a pointed look, and she continued, “I kind of told Aunt Catherine that you’d take me to buy a dress for the funeral tomorrow. She won’t let me wear the blue dress that I usually wear to events; she says I have to wear black, and I can’t wear that old dress again. It’s just too small and I can’t breathe in it. I need a new one and if you don’t help, then I’ll have to buy it with Aunt Catherine and the last time we went clothes shopping she said I needed to lose five pounds and called me an ugly duckling and-”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. There went his plans to get work done this afternoon. _I’ve made my choice,_ he reminded himself, _Gigi is the most important thing._ “I am not mad, Gigi,” William said as he got into the car. “I just wish you’d given me a little warning.” He turned the key in the ignition, and paused. “Um. Gigi?” His face flushed. “Where would you go to buy a black dress?” He looked at her, embarrassed. 

Gigi cackled with laughter, and directed him to her favorite store. William stared in awe as Gigi dragged him past racks and racks of clothing. His mother had always been the one to take Gigi clothes shopping, so William had never had any cause to stray from the men’s section of the local upscale department store. The women’s section was like an alien planet, it was too colorful, covered in garish pinks and greens. Eventually Gigi appeared to have reached her destination, because she stopped tugging on his hand and started working her way through the racks. “What do you think about this?” Gigi held up a lacy black dress. Before he could even tell her that he had no idea, Gigi continued, “No, never mind, it has a weird bow on the side. Too short. Not black. Not in my size.” Gigi rejected dresses faster than William could even look at them. He followed her around the store, holding a growing pile of black fabric in his arms, and answering every “What do you think about this?” with “Um, I don’t know.”

Her search completed, Gigi retreated to a dressing room with her selections, and left William to sit uncomfortably in a chair outside. William was beginning to wonder if they might be late to the funeral itself, when Gigi stuck her head out from the dressing room and said, “So I’ve got it narrowed down to two. Can I get your opinion?”

William nodded and Gigi stepped out. Her first option was a simple black dress, the only adornment was a single gray ribbon at the bottom and a small fringe of gray tulle peaking out from underneath the skirt. “That is lovely. Very appropriate.”

Gigi rolled her eyes. “That is so not helpful. You don’t think it makes my shoulders look too broad?” She squinted at herself in the mirror.

“Your shoulders look perfectly proportioned.”

“That’s a great line; do you use it on all the girls?” Gigi laughed, and William chuckled awkwardly. “Well, anyway, this is option one.” She ducked back into her changing room, and a minute or so later, emerged in her second choice. Option two was also black, but had silver embroidered leaves all over the bottom half of the skirt, as well as at the neckline. Gigi did a little twirl and looked at William expectantly. His brain went into over drive, trying to think of something to say about the dress. _What would Mom say?_ He kept asking himself, but his mind remained uselessly blank.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “It looks…pretty.” As soon as the words left his mouth, William couldn’t believe he’d actually said them. _Pretty! I said pretty._ Pretty was not a word William Darcy typically uttered if he could help it.

“Oh my god. Which one do you like better?”

“I cannot say. The first is more funeral-ish.”

“Yeah, Aunt Catherine would want me to buy the first one, but then again, she’s always dressed like she’s going to a funeral, so maybe that’s just her personal style.”

“Well, Aunt Catherine is not here. Which one do you prefer?”

“The second one. Definitely.”

“Alright then. We will purchase that one.”

“But Aunt Catherine-”

“Is not here, and it is more important for you to be comfortable. Gigi, you should learn to stand up for yourself. Aunt Catherine will take control of your life if you let her. We are getting the second dress.” Gigi changed, and they purchased the dress. As the walked together back to the car, William strode across the parking lot, and Gigi scampered to keep up with him, taking two steps for every one of his.

As they drove back to the house, Gigi looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you scared?” She asked.

“Of what?”

“Are you scared for tomorrow?” 

William looked at his sister, her face perfectly serious, her eyes filled with fear, and he said, simply, “Yes. I am scared.”

He thought he saw a tear quiver on one of her eye lashes, but then she said, “me too,” and turned to look out the window.


	12. The Lights Surrounding You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some housekeeping:  
> There are five chapters left of Forever Young.  
> These will be posted Today, Friday, Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday.  
> My poll ended up as a tie between Thanksgiving 2013, and Christmas 2014.  
> I think I'm going to start with Thanksgiving 2013.  
> I don't know when I will begin posting that one, but it might be a while.

“You look great, stop worrying,” Gigi told him after she caught him staring at his reflection for the fiftieth time in the hall mirror. 

William didn’t respond, but turned his back to the mirror, smoothed his tie, and took a deep breath. He watched the veins throbbing in Aunt Catherine’s throat. The limo driver was five minutes late, and it was beginning to look like they might be attending another funeral in the near future. “I should have brought my driver out to take care of us. These young hired men have no regard for punctuality or common courtesy.” William tuned her out as she continued to drone on about the importance of timeliness in the workplace, and checked his pocket for his remarks. At the last minute he’d slipped the pocketwatch in with them. It’s weight gave him courage, and it made him feel like he had some bit of his parents with him.

His sister caught his eye, glanced at Aunt Catherine, and snickered. Gigi looked much older in her new black dress and their mother’s locket. The week had aged both of them, he realized; he barely recognized his own face in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes were new, and he carried himself differently.

The car ride over was uneventful; Aunt Catherine continued to talk about something, and Gigi gripped his hand so tightly he wondered if he’d ever feel his fingers again. William didn’t notice it, but he was gripping her hand with equal force. When they arrived at the Pemberley Digital offices they were whisked up immediately to his father’s old office by an assistant. Thanks to Aunt Catherine’s obsession with punctuality, they were almost a full forty-five minutes early.

Gigi flopped into one of the chairs and let out a huge sigh. “Georgiana, I would appreciate it if you would act more ladylike. Girls these days have such terrible postures. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up with a hunchback at twenty-years-old and then how will you get a husband?” Gigi clamped her hands over her mouth to hide the chuckle that was trying to escape. Then she sighed, rolled her eyes, and sat up a little straighter. For his part, William was far too nervous to sit still for even a moment. He thumbed through the files neatly stacked on his fathers old desk. They were memos, and he was pleased to find he was able to understand most of them. When there was nothing more to examine on the desk he walked over to the window, where he was able to see down into the garden. It was only March, so the garden was still mostly pale green shoots just beginning to emerge from the ground. He could see the stage, draped in black, with a gigantic black and white picture of his parents on their wedding day serving as a backdrop. Little white chairs stood guard in rows, and little black dots were beginning to take their seats.

By this time the other speakers had come to join them. Mark Williams, and Kimberley Evans would speak about the Darcy’s professional lives. A pastor would deliver a prayer. There would be a hymn. Aunt Catherine would give the eulogy for his mother, and then finally, William would give the eulogy for his father. The room was crowded, William was growing hot, and time seemed to drag on. Finally, five minutes before the scheduled noon start time, Mark Williams walked the speakers down from the office and out to the garden. It was a crisp, overcast spring day, gray light filtered down from a few gaps in the cloud cover. A chamber orchestra was playing a soft and soothing piece of music that floated across the lawn and through the open door to the lobby. “Everyone ready?” Mark Williams asked.

His throat obscured by a mysterious lump, William just nodded. He felt Gigi give his hand a gentle squeeze and turned to smile at her. He kept his eyes glued to the back of Aunt Catherine’s head as he walked across the grass, which was still wet with dew. They walked down the aisle, and up on to the stage. William felt his legs shaking as he took the stairs. Gigi’s hand was damp and clammy in his own. He took a seat in his uncomfortable white chair and breathed a sigh of relief. Rather than looking out at the crowd, William concentrated intensely on his shoes. He heard rather than saw Mark Williams take three slow steps over to the sleek black podium.

There were two taps of the microphone, and then a soft, “Alright, good afternoon everyone. Let’s get started.” Mark cleared his throat and then continued. “Welcome to the memorial for Anne F. Darcy and William S. Darcy. I first met William S. Darcy in the fall of 1972. At the time we were both freshmen at Harvard. I was on the football team, and we’d just had our first home game. It was a horrific loss; we just got demolished. Three hours after the game ended, I came out of the locker room, and I saw someone still sitting in the bleachers. Now, this was fall, in Cambridge, so it was not warm. William S. Darcy, or to many of you, Will, was sitting in the stands, bundled up to his ears, doing the reading for his freshman writing class.”

The crowd chuckled appreciatively. “I went up to him and asked what he was doing there. Now, you see, one of Will’s roommates was on the football team and Will had come with some other people to support his roommate. Will hadn’t really wanted to go, but he was trying to be nice and meet people. Then Will got bored during the game so he’d taken out the book he was reading for class. He then proceeded to get so engrossed in his reading that he didn’t notice when his friends left, or even when the game ended! I was in the same class and we got into a discussion on Roman economics. For his part, Will would have been happy enough to have that conversation out in the cold, but I managed to convince him to accompany me to the student center for a cup of coffee. We never looked back.”

“I like to tell the story of my first interaction with Will because I think it is a great example of his character. Lesson number one about Will: Will Darcy was going to outwork you. There was no question. He was always working, both at school and then at Pemberley. I think at some point even the maintenance guys started asking him to lock up in the evenings. And forget his assistant Reynolds having coffee ready for him in the mornings! He’d always have a fresh cup sitting on her desk for when she came in. Although she said sometimes it was cold by the time she got in.” That got a laugh and a teary smile out of Reynolds, who was sobbing in the front row. “Lesson number two about Will: Will had laser-like focus and determination. When he set his sights on something, nothing could get in his way. Not me, not red tape and certainly not a trifling thing like the weather. It was disconcerting to find yourself on the business end of that focus, as I’m sure his children can attest.” William’s face flushed as he felt hundreds of eyes glance his way.

“Lesson number three: Will cared about everyone. He hadn’t known his roommate for a month, but he came to a football game in the cold to watch that roommate play. Will hated football—don’t worry I fixed that—but he came anyway, to support his roommate. For thirty years, I was fortunate enough to enjoy Will’s friendship and loyalty. He introduced me to my wife, Sally, and he was godfather to my son, Fitz. Will and I raised our children together; we worked long hours together. And let me tell you, when you’re writing performance reviews at one in the morning together over takeout, you can really get to know a guy. Not many companies can boast of one leader who is hardworking, exceedingly talented, and also kind. Pemberley Digital had two. Anne and Will knew everyone’s name, from the VPs to the janitorial staff. We remember our bosses today, but we also grieve for our friends. To have friends like Will and Anne has been one of the great pleasures of my life, and to lose them, one of it’s greatest tragedies. Thank you. I now turn the microphone over to a close friend of mine, and Pemberley Digital’s Head of Accounting, Ms. Kimberley Evans.”

By the time Mark finished his speech, William was expending every bit of mental energy he had holding back his tears. He’d heard Mark tell that story hundreds of times but now it brought memories that he’d fought to keep in the past bubbling up to the present: playing with a model car on the floor in his father’s office, his father’s 40th birthday party, the night he got accepted to Harvard. William didn’t see or hear much of Ms. Evans’s speech; he was lost in his own memories. He heard sniffles next to him, and realized Gigi was crying into a tissue. He took her hand again and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

The ceremony crept on though, and as it did William’s grief became fear. There was a pastor, who gave a benediction, and by the time the hymn came around, William was so anxious he could only mouth the words. He barely heard or saw any of Aunt Catherine’s speech; he was so focused on being nervous he didn’t even get embarrassed when she called San Francisco a backwater. No matter how he tried though, he could not slow the march of time, and far too soon, his Aunt finished her speech, “My nephew, and the future of Pemberley Digital, William Darcy.”

He stood up on legs that might have been made of jello. Gigi gave him an encouraging smile as he took the walk to the podium. _Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. There are so many people. I am going to cry. Aunt Catherine is going to be so disappointed in me._ Fitz was sitting in the second row and giving him a thumbs up. That made him smile a little. Everyone was staring at him. To buy himself some time, and avoid looking at the crowd, he took his remarks out of his pocket. As he did, his fingers brushed the cool metal of the watch. He carefully spread his remarks on the podium, slid his hand back in his pocket, grabbed the watch, and began.


	13. Eulogy

“Good afternoon everyone.” William grabbed the black podium tightly with his right hand so no one would see it shaking. His left hand was still firmly clasping the watch in his pocket. “Earlier today Mark Williams gave a beautiful speech describing his relationship with my father. However, I’m afraid that speech may have given you the wrong idea. My father was in every sense of the word, a family man. Yes, he worked long hours and was devoted to his profession, but he brought the same passion, intensity, and work-ethic that he had as CEO to his role as father.” William swallowed. “I admit, it wasn’t a conventional childhood. Until we were old enough to be left alone after school, instead of going home Gigi and I would be picked up by a driver and taken here, to these offices. I did my homework in our library, and on the couch in his office. Once my father put an investor from France on hold to help me with an Algebra assignment.” William couldn’t help but smile at the memory, and there was a chuckle from the audience. “I don’t recall if he got the investment. We had family dinners in the Pemberley cafeteria. If the weather was nice, Dad would let Gigi and me play on this lawn, and we knew he’d always be watching from his window up there.” William let go of the podium briefly to point to the top floor. “I like to imagine he’s watching me from up there now.” 

He felt tears forming in his eyes, but he was powerless to fight gravity, and they began falling. The crowd blurred before him. “These offices feel more like home than the house where I grew up. There’s a reason for that. They say home is where your heart is, and my father’s heart was always at Pemberley. He cared deeply for this place, and even more for the people who worked here. My father was a family man, and Pemberley was his family. And Pemberley has been my family too. To carry the name William Darcy is to be inextricably bound to this company, this place, and these people. It is a precious gift and an immense responsibility. A responsibility that my father felt keenly, and a responsibility that he passed on to me.” There was no hiding the fact that he was crying anymore. He could imagine the stern, disapproving look on Aunt Catherine’s face, and he thought he could feel her stare burning a hole in the nape of his neck.

Doing the best to keep his voice on an even keel, William continued, “the father-son relationship is primarily one of teaching. When other fathers taught their sons how to fish, or play baseball, my father took me to my first board meeting at the age of seven. I could read and understand a business plan by fourteen and write one at sixteen. But most importantly, my father taught me leadership.” William was decidedly losing the battle for control of his voice. “He showed me how to be a leader every day by being one himself. My father said to me once that leadership was not a promotion or a job-title but rather something you had to earn anew each day in the hearts and minds of your subordinates. My father didn’t want people to do as he said because he was the boss, he wanted people follow his orders because he knew the best thing, the right thing, to do. He was a true leader, a loyal friend, and the best teacher I ever had.”

“I am sure there were many other things he would have taught me if he’d had the time, but he gave me the tools, and I will have to learn the rest on my own. Well, not entirely on my own. My parents left me the guardianship of my sister Georgiana.” He turned back to look at his sister. She was sobbing into a tissue, but at the mention of her name she looked up. When their eyes met, she got up from her chair and ran across the stage. He wrapped his arms around her until she was able to pull herself together again. When Gigi had calmed herself, he pressed on through his own tears, always keeping one arm around her. “Gigi, I hope I can be the patient, caring, and responsible role model that you deserve, and that I was fortunate enough to have. William Darcy may have died, but to all of us he will live on as something to aspire to, a yardstick to which we will never quite measure up.”

William took a deep breath; he was on the home stretch now, “Today we remember William S. Darcy, the successful businessman, and his achievements as the CEO of Pemberley Digital.  Today we remember William Darcy the beloved boss, and the kindness and care he showed to all his employees. Today we remember Will the loyal and trustworthy friend, and the lengths he would go to for those close to him.” William took a deep breath through his tears, squeezed Gigi’s shoulder, and found the strength to finish, “And I’ll miss all of those aspects of him, but mostly, I’ll miss my Dad.” William paused to collect himself. “Thank you all for coming, and please join us for a reception in the ceremonial conference room.”

Finally he let go of Gigi’s hand and walked back to his seat. He was so relieved to be done, it wasn’t until he’d sat back down in his seat and discreetly wiped his eyes with a tissue that he realized people were still applauding. Some were even on their feet. Unsure of what to do he looked at Mark Williams, who just shrugged. William stood up again and gave the crowd a half-wave. Then Mark Williams lead the line off the stage, up to the conference room, and away from the thousands of staring eyes. As they entered the offices, Gigi nudged him with her shoulder. “You were great.” She smiled up at him.

He smiled back.


	14. Hands Always Busy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH WOW! AN UPDATE! Sorry folks, this is what happens when you get a full time job, you can't just sit around and write fic all day. But I haven't forgotten about this fic, and I plan to finish it. I don't know when the next update will be (probably the next time I have a spare couple of hours to write.) Thanks for all your support, and I'm sorry to keep you all waiting.

William Darcy was utterly spent. He had fancied himself exhausted before, after a long day of skiing or a particularly intense bike ride, but that was nothing to how he felt now. The muscles in his legs trembled with the strain of keeping himself upright, and threatened to collapse at any moment. His brain, usually so sharp and perceptive, was moving at half its usual speed. And everyone wanted to talk to him. “That was a beautiful speech….your parents would be so proud…meant so much to me…” it all blurred together: the hands he shook, the people he hugged.

Eventually he just started responding to everyone with “Thank you; I miss them terribly.” It worked with whatever formulaic sympathy the person was offering him. When he felt that he had spent enough time being social, he took refuge at a table in the corner. He pulled out his phone and pretended to be engrossed in reading something.

“William, I want you to draft your proposal for the board and come over tomorrow evening so I can take a look at it.”

“Thank you; I miss them terribly.” William looked up and found not another well-wisher, but rather Mark Williams, all business.

He smiled at William’s response. “How are you holding up?” He placed a large comforting hand on William’s shoulder. William told him with an exhausted look. “Well, your speech was perfect. It made quite an impression on all the board members I’ve spoken to. They’re meeting in a week to figure out what to do, and we’re going to have to be ready.”

“Thank you, I just hope my speech was good enough to balance out Aunt Catherine’s. She may be family, but a charismatic speaker she is not.”

Mark Williams gave a deep throated chuckle to that. “I’m sure it was. You should talk to Fitz. I know he was looking for you.”

“Once more unto the breach,” William sighed, and winced as he stood up. The reception was thinning out, so it wasn’t too hard to wind his way through the remaining clumps of people to find his friend. Fitz was surrounded by a lively group of people, all laughing uproariously at something. As soon as he saw his friend, Fitz bowed out of the group and ran over to William. Fitz’s suit was already a little rumpled and his tie was almost thirty degrees off vertical.

“Will D.!” He exclaimed and enveloped William in a bear hug. “You were fantastic! My mom cried the whole way through your speech.”

“Thank you, Fitz.” It was perhaps the first sincere expression of gratitude he’d made all day. Fitz launched into a hilarious story of Aunt Catherine cornering a terrified accountant at the reception, complete with hand gestures and facial expressions, but William cut him off, “Fitz, can you please hold that thought? I need to talk to George.” William had caught sight of George Wickham chatting animatedly with his sister about something. _Probably swimming,_ he thought. George waved his arms as if swimming butterfly, and laughing, Gigi imitated him. _Definitely swimming_. “George.” Wickham spun around, startled. Guilt flashed across his face. “Did you get what you needed?” William asked softly taking a couple steps away from his sister. George followed.

“Yeah. Totally. It was all smooth. Thanks for your help.”

“It was no trouble.” William shoved his hands in his pocket and looked at George expectantly.

George didn’t seem to know what to say. “Well, I’ve got places to do, you know?” He gave Gigi a hug, and something about the way Gigi looked at George made William uneasy. “Keep practicing, your arms will get more flexible. Those times will come down. I believe in you.” George gave Gigi a roguish wink and strutted off into the crowd. Gigi watched him go until he disappeared.

Finally the last guests left the conference room, and William, Gigi, and Aunt Catherine were left alone amidst a hurricane of cups and cocktail plates. Reynolds was supervising the team of caterers cleaning up. Aunt Catherine gave her some unneeded pointers, and then marched William and Gigi back to the car.  The driver dropped them off at the house. Aunt Catherine retreated to her room without saying a word. She’d started giving William the silent treatment. He didn’t really mind it. Gigi ran up to her room to change so she could try out the tips George had given her in the pool. 

William sat at the desk in his father’s office and looked out at the window down to Gigi swimming laps in the backyard. He took out the reports on Pemberley Digital’s current status and pulled up a blank document on the computer. Cautiously, and then faster, he began to type.

He didn’t notice Gigi come up from the pool, and he didn’t get up to turn the lights on when the sun went down and the room was only lit by the glow of the computer screen. When he started to go cross-eyed from staring at the screen, he saved his work, and went to bed. The clock in his room read 1:30am.

After a few restless hours of sleep, he went back to work. He researched, he typed, he deleted, he  flipped through the annual reports, he typed some more. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Gigi waking up and going for her morning swim, but he continued to write.

“William?” He started at the sound of his name.

“Yes, Gigi?” William spun around in his desk chair and rubbed his eyes. His sister was standing in the doorway, hair still wet from the pool.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Some.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not really, but thank you.”

“Too bad. It’s time for breakfast.” William could see by the set of his sister’s chin that there was no arguing about the subject, so he tore himself away from the keyboard and went downstairs to the dining room.

The cook had done something with eggs and vegetables that was actually quite good. Aunt Catherine was full of suggestions for his proposal, so he didn’t have to talk much. He left as quickly as he could with out being rude. He worked steadily for the rest of the day, and by the time he printed out a copy of his proposal to take over to Fitz’s house that evening, he was feeling pretty good about it.

As he sat on a hard leather chair in Mark William’s office, watching Mark peruse his work, all of that confidence drained away. Mark set the pile of papers down and turned to William. “That looks like a good place to start. I’ll look it over tomorrow, and email you my comments tomorrow night. What were the European profit margins in the second quarter of 2003?”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” William asked.

“What were the European market’s profit margins in the second quarter of 2003?” William made a move to look the numbers up. “Without looking, if you can.”

William felt his stomach clench. He instinctively tucked his chin, and said, “I cannot.”

“Very well, look them up.” William did. “I want you to have the American, Asian, and European market numbers for the last five years memorized before you go in front of the investors. You should also have the number of employees for each year, as well as any notable events in the company’s history. Most of the board will be fair, but there are some who might try to trip you up. I’ll also send you a list of questions to start thinking about answers to. You need to be prepared.”

William nodded. “I will be.”

Mark gave him a smile. “I’m sure of it.”


	15. Lucky

As the week progressed William discovered that in addition to preparing for his presentation, caring for his sister, and his usual school work, he was also responsible for running a household. He’d kept his parents’ driver on, except now the man was Gigi’s driver. He brought the cook on full-time; no more half re-heated lasagna for them. He no longer did his homework at the pool watching Gigi practice; he left school as soon as the last bell rung and met up with Mark to prepare for the meeting.

The plan he’d prepared so painstakingly the day after the memorial service had been torn to shreds, re-assembled, and torn to shreds again, so many times he’d lost track. But eventually they’d found a document that both men were happy with. William and Mark had settled on a fairly simple plan: consistency. Stress the fact that the actions they were proposing would send a powerful message of stability to investors who might be worried about Pemberley Digital’s future.

“Additionally, this proposal would eliminate the transition period associated with bringing a new CEO on board who is unfamiliar with Pemberley’s operating procedure. Mr. Williams is prepared to take on his new role tomorrow, and by the time I graduate from college, by virtue of my continued exposure and preparation, I will be able to take the helm from him immediately. Many might say I am too young-“

“William?” Gigi rapped on his door.

“Yes?” He stopped his pacing and put his noted on the desk.

“In what year did Pemberley Digital first enter the European market?”

“1954. You’re going to have to try harder than that to find something I don’t know.”

“Cool trick, I bet it goes over great at parties. It’s time for breakfast.” William rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “You didn’t sleep last night, did you?” His far too perceptive sister observed. “You need to take better care of yourself. I’m not going to stand by and watch while you run yourself ragged.”

“It’s not forever; it’s just for one more day. The presentation is tomorrow morning, and after that things will be a little more normal.” Whatever that meant now.

“Fine, come to breakfast. But so help me god, you are going to be in bed by 11pm tonight.” He stared her down. She met his gaze without flinching. “Sister’s orders. It won’t do anyone any good if you fall asleep while you’re giving your presentation.”

As the hours ticked past, he felt like time was speeding up. A lump was forming in his stomach. After he got home from school he looked over his remarks one more time, and laid out his best suit. William stared at his physics homework, but it seemed trivial when tomorrow his future would be decided. He felt in his pocket for the watch, grasping for something sturdy, and remembered another night when that suit had been hanging on his closet door, just like that.

It had been almost a year ago, the night before his Harvard interview.

* * *

 

“I know Mr. Ritter; he’s a friend from the club; I’m sure everything will be fine. Just relax and be yourself.” William senior put a large comforting hand on William’s shoulder.

“I am not skilled at small talk, father; I would hate to have my opportunity to go to Harvard destroyed by a failure of diplomacy.” William clenched his jaw.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” his father whispered, and pulled a tie from his pocket. It was black, with a small white pattern on it, so that it appeared gray from a distance. “This is my lucky tie.”

“Surely you do not really believe in that sort superstitious thinking, father. I may have believed you when you put a ‘lucky nickel’ in my shoe in the first day of kindergarden; but at 18 I am far too old to fall for such a trick.” William stared at his father incredulously.

“Well, if it isn’t lucky it’s not going to hurt you to wear it, and if it is, it just might help. I’ll just tell you this: it’s never failed me yet.”

“Have you tried it? How many times?”

“Well, when I cut the deal with the Japanese investors, when I first asked your mother on a date, and every year when I have my annual review with the board.”

William smiled, “As a businessman you know that sample size is far too small to be statistically significant.” But he took the tie anyway.

* * *

 

His reverie had taken him all the way to his parents’s bedroom.  Like his father’s office, he and Gigi had always been forbidden to enter it with out an explicit invitation. Even now, almost two full weeks after, it seemed like an invasion of privacy to enter. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. Sooner or later, he thought, someone would have to go in there, and he figured his parents would rather it be him. As he had many times in the past two weeks, he silently prayed that his parents would approve of his actions, and opened the door.

He didn’t turn the lights on but made his way to the walk in closet in the twilight. Large picture windows spilled orange-red light on to the gray carpet. William tried not to look at the pictures on the walls but out of the corner of his eyes he could see his parents’ smiling faces. His vision swam and he finally ducked into the closet, and safety. He closed the door behind himself, and sat on the carpet in the darkness, as his mother would say, having a good cry. The closet still smelled strongly of them, and for a moment, he could almost imagine that they’d come home again any minute. He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering that they wouldn’t return, ever, and he was all alone in the closet.

“William? William?”

He jumped to his feet shakily, “Gigi?” The door opened and the light clicked on.

“William? What are you doing in here in the dark?”

“I was-” he felt his face coloring. “I was looking for a tie to wear.”

“Don’t you have like, seven billion ties of your own?” She asked. Gigi was determinedly not mentioning or looking at the still wet tears on his face. “Anyway, it’s time for dinner. I told the cook to get sushi from your favorite place.”

“Thank you, Gigi. I will be down momentarily.” As soon as she was gone he wiped his face, straightened his jacket, and grabbed the tie he was looking for. A quick stop in his room to leave the tie and grab the folder of facts he was still trying to cram into his head, and he went down to the dining room. Aunt Catherine had left in a huff on Monday, still upset that he wouldn’t allow her to see or help with his proposal. For a few days the house had seemed oddly empty with just the two of them. But as with many things, William had found he’d gotten used to it. 

“No, leave the folder. Today we’re having a normal dinner. You’re not working, I’m not quizzing you. We’re talking like normal siblings.” He smiled at her, put the folder down, and took his seat.

Gigi was right. It did make him feel better to take his mind off the project for a little while. True to her word she came to find him at 11 sharp that night. “Alright, hand it over.”

“What?”

“Your materials. Hand them over. You’ll get them back after breakfast tomorrow before you leave. You and I both know that if I don’t take these, as soon as you think I’ve gone to bed you’ll be studying by flashlight under the covers.” He helped Gigi gather up the thick stack of files without protest. She carried them off to hide them somewhere in the big house. He closed the door behind her and tried to follow her instructions to sleep.

He’d assumed that he would spend the night before his presentation slipping in and out of nightmares where he messed up, or went naked or something like that. Instead he found that he couldn’t sleep at all, and it was left to his conscious mind to supply the nightmares. At some point he must have fallen into an unsatisfying, restless, sleep, because he was woken at 6:30 by his sister knocking at his door with a big grin on her face, and wet hair.

“Hey sleepyhead, it’s time for breakfast, and heads up, you might want to wait to get dressed.”

“Gigi,” William warned, “What did you do?”

“You’ll see?” She ran off giggling. He rolled his eyes, put his glasses on, and stumbled downstairs in his pajamas. With some trepidation, he peered into the dining room. Gigi was seated at the head of the table, a huge platter of donuts in front of her, and a half eaten powdered sugar one in her hand.

It was all too much; he collapsed in a fit of giggles. “You got donuts.”

“Well, I told the cook to get donuts. I can’t actually drive…yet.” She grinned wickedly at him.

He shoved the realization that he was going to have to be the one to teach his younger sister to drive to the back of his mind, and took a seat, and a donut. Three donuts later, he pushed his chair back from the table. “Alright, if I eat another donut I think I’m going to be sick. Now you said after breakfast I could have my materials back? Where have you hidden them?”

“Under the couch in the sunroom.”

“Now my meeting is at ten, and I’m driving over in Mark’s car. Jeremy will take you to school and pick you up from practice. Remember, we’re having dinner with the Williams’ tonight; so be sure to be ready to leave by seven thirty.”

“And you’re sure I can’t come with you?”

“Absolutely out of the question.” His sister hung her head. He sighed, “Gigi, it’s not that I don’t want you there, but you need to be in school, and I need to do this alone. Besides,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, “I’m going to be nervous enough with out worrying about impressing you.”

“But you’ll tell me everything, after?”

“Everything,” he confirmed.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He gave her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, and watched as she flashed him her crossed fingers, hopped into the car, and went off to school. It took him a while to scrub the sugar off his face and hands, but at seven thirty sharp, he was standing in the front hall picking invisible flecks of lint off his suit jacket and waiting for Mark Williams. He was jittery, like that time junior year he’d had too much coffee studying for AP Chemistry. Little bits of his skin would itch and it felt like very nerve in his body was son fire. Every couple of minutes he would imagine he heard the car pulling up, but his mind was playing tricks on him. Finally the car appeared. He grabbed his binder and jacket, and stepped out into the chill morning.


	16. Build a Ladder To the Stars

Mark was waiting for him in the car. “Relax, William. You look like you’re going to hurl.”

“Is it that obvious?” He tucked his chin to his neck and tried to rearrange his features into something less terrified looking.

Mark smiled, “Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. You’re in expert hands. I remember the first time your father presented at a board meeting. I think he actually may have lost his breakfast. He wouldn’t let me accompany him to the bathroom though, so I can’t be sure.” Mark continued to reminisce as the car traversed the familiar path to Pemberley. The closer they got, the tighter he gripped the binder holding his notes, and by the time they arrived, his fingers had left permanent dents in the back cover.

Mark led him up to the conference room on the fourth floor. A shiny blue and white marble floor awaited them, with the Pemberley logo in silver in the center. The walls were polished black glass. This was not his father’s office, full of yellow wood and brown leather chairs. This room felt mean. A long black table ran down the center, and at least forty hulking black leather chairs ran down its sides. They were early; no other board members had arrived yet.

“This is where you’ll be presenting from,” Mark led him to a silver and black podium. “You can put your notes here. But you should try to move around the room, and only look at your notes if you absolutely must. The more comfortable you seem, the better your case will go over. Now remember what we discussed. I will only speak if spoken to by someone else. As far as you are concerned, I don’t exist. We need to make the point that this is your plan. If it looks like I’m too involved, the board will be suspicious. People are going to be arriving soon, so get your notes set up. When they start arriving, they’ll want to talk to you, be polite, but don’t drop any hints as to the contents of your presentation. Sit at the seat with your name on it until the chair recognizes you. After you finish your presentation, thank the board for hearing you out. Then they will move to deliberate, at which point you and I recuse ourselves from the vote on grounds of conflict of interest.”

“It sounds simple when you say it like that.” William commented, his voice high pitched from nerves.

“Like falling off a log.”

Mark Williams took a seat in one of the chairs, and William arranged his notes on the podium. Sometime last night, Gigi had written a little good luck note and stuck it in the front of his binder. He smiled and put it in his pocket. All too soon people started arriving. As Mark had warned him, everyone was trying to get some sort of inside knowledge as to what his proposal would entail. It was like the reception after his parent’s funeral, but worse, because now everyone was trying to interrogate him. Even so, when the chair called the board to order, William felt his stomach sink. It was time.

“At this time the board recognizes William F. Darcy, for a presentation.” He schooled his face to something he hoped was neutral, and walked up to the podium. He looked down the room at the sea of faces reflected in the perfect shine of the black table.

“Thank you for allowing me to speak to you today ladies and gentlemen, as you deliberate how to replace the CEO of Pemberley Digital. I have a proposal for you today that is highly unorthodox…” The words that he’d rehearsed so many times began to tumble from his lips, and after that it was all a blur. He was speaking, he knew that much, and they hadn’t laughed him out of the room yet, so that was probably a good sign. More than anything he wanted to look at Mark, to see how he was doing, because the faces of everyone else on the board were inscrutable. “…In conclusion, Pemberley Digital has never been afraid to make bold moves when times called for them. I believe that the proposal I have laid out will allow consistency of management within the company while allowing it to stay at the cutting edge of the field of digital media. Thank you for your attention. I will now take any questions you may have.” Was it supposed to have been that short? William had felt like he’d only been speaking for a few minutes. He was sure he’d skipped a huge section of his prepared speech. He should have stayed by the podium or looked at his speech more.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on that because every hand in the room was raised. The questions came like a flood. “How can we justify to our investors naming a child who doesn’t even have a college degree the head of a multi-million dollar corporation?” 

“If we were to name you head of the company, what would you do to turn the Asian numbers around?”

“What do you think is an appropriate research budget for a firm this size?”

Mark had been right again, several members of the board seemed to be trying to trip him up and were openly hostile to his proposal. But at least as many seemed to be giving him a fair hearing, asking honest, well meaning questions about his ability to step into his role and the direction he’d take the company. Finally the questions slowed to a trickle and then stopped all together.

“If there are no more questions, I’d like to thank the board for this audience.”

The chairman of the board pounded his gavel. “Thank you Mr. Darcy, you may be seated.” William walked back to the leather chair, and sat down, excruciatingly aware of all the eyes still following him. “At this time, the board will deliberate on the matter of replacing the CEO.” William raised his hand again. “The chair recognizes Mr. Darcy.”

“I would like to recuse myself from this deliberation on the grounds of conflict of interest.”

“Very well, are there any objections?” The room was silent. “The chair recognizes Mr. Williams.”

“I also recuse myself from this deliberation on the grounds of conflict of interest.”

“Very well, are there any objections?” More silence. “Let the record show that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Williams recused themselves from deliberation on this matter and at this time left the room.” William stood up, took one last defiant look down the table, and walked to the heavy black wooden door. He pushed it open, stepped through, and didn’t look back. He heard it thud shut behind him. It was done.


End file.
